When they set out to find growing mainline churches, sociologist David Haskell and historian Kevin Flatt did the logical thing – they asked leaders of four key Canadian denominations to list their successful congregations.

It didn’t take long, however, to spot a major problem as the researchers contacted these Anglican, United Church, Presbyterian and Evangelical Lutheran parishes.

“Few, if any, of the congregations these denomination’s leaders named were actually growing,” said Haskell, who teaches at Wilfrid Laurier University in Branford, Ontario. “A few had experienced a little bit of growth in one or two years in the past, but for the most part they were holding steady, at best, or actually in steady declines.”

To find thriving congregations in these historic denominations, Haskell and Flatt, who teaches at Redeemer University College in Hamilton, had to hunt on their own. By word of mouth, they followed tips from pastors and lay leaders to other growing mainline churches.

The bottom line: The faith proclaimed in growing churches was more orthodox – especially on matters of salvation, biblical authority and the supernatural – than in typical mainline congregations. These churches were thriving on the doctrinal fringes of shrinking institutions.

“The people running these old, established denominations didn’t actually know much about their own growing churches,” said Haskell, reached by telephone. “Either that or they didn’t want to admit which churches were growing.”

I found that fascinating, the growing churches, are simply putting their head down and growing the church, but they are not really telling the hierarchs what they are doing. I can’t say I’m surprised, though, I can remember when I was a trustee of my home church, even the council paid no attention to the mission fundraising, we were a fairly conservative E & R church in the maelstrom of the UCC, it was not a happy combination. You know, we traditional types were not enamored of supporting Dr. Jeremiah Wright, who was and is a part of the UCC. Continuing:

In growing congregations, all the clergy interviewed said it was crucial to encourage non-Christians to convert. In declining ones, only half the clergy agreed.

The study found that, in growing churches, pastors were even more orthodox than their congregations. In declining ones, the pastors were even more liberal.

Growing congregations were likely to be younger and have more children.

I don’t really think I have much to add to that, except that I told you so, and so did a lot of others here. A lot of the mainstream churches have become political clubs, or as I said once, coffee shops full of do-gooders, not houses of God. Well, the ones that remember the mission seem to be progressing in the mission.

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Last time I ended with this, “And that I thought was the end of the story. Just another complacent American Christian of the Lutheran variety.” So let’s continue

But one day, on a whim, because I was bored, I started a blog, and it still exists (here), and like most of us, I began reading and commenting on a variety of blogs. On one of them, on the day the Supreme Court ruled on Obamacare, there was a Bible quote from a Brit girl commiserating with us. Usually, I’m not impressed with people who simply quote (or cherry pick) the Bible. But there was something compelling about that one, and I came back later and followed the link. Most of you know that that commenter was our own Jessica.

And that is when I started becoming a serious Christian. My basic beliefs have hardly changed at all but Jess, and Chalcedon, and Servus, and the rest past and present, and a very high percentage of them still read here although their comments are sparser than I would wish, have deepened and broadened my faith more than I would have ever believed possible.

Still what can I say about Jess, for more than anything it was her guidance, her gift for teaching, her basic Christian decency, and her love that fertilized my growth. Not to mention the poetry. Who could resist Chesterton when one is down and ready to despair?

And this was the might of Alfred,
At the ending of the way;
That of such smiters, wise or wild,
He was least distant from the child,
Piling the stones all day.

The King looked up, and what he saw

Was a great light like death,For Our Lady stood on the standards rent,As lonely and as innocentAs when between white walls she wentAnd the lilies of Nazareth.

She made a pilgrimage to Walsingham that summer before starting her job. She wrote about it here and in other following articles (search for Walsingham). Walsingham was known throughout the middle ages as England’s Nazareth, and every King of England made that pilgrimage from Richard I to Henry VIII and then it was destroyed as part of the suppression of the Monasteries. A shocking bit of vandalism.

But she opened my eyes that weekend to a part of the Faith that I had never considered: Marian veneration. She did it in an altogether unexpected way, she simply lit a candle for me and prayed for me. I was very moved. Her explanation was so clear and sensible that I instantly understood, and after a bit of research it has become part of my life as well. She has a gift of being able to explain the most complex things so clearly that even a broken down old lineman can understand. That was also the weekend that she became my dearest friend. And she also introduced me to some of Eliot’s poetry that has become my favorite, from Little Gidding, as well as hers:

If you came this way,
Taking any route, starting from anywhere,
At any time or at any season,
It would always be the same: you would have to put off
Sense and notion. You are not here to verify,
Instruct yourself, or inform curiosity
Or carry report. You are here to kneel
Where prayer has been valid. And prayer is more
Than an order of words, the conscious occupation
Of the praying mind, or the sound of the voice praying.
And what the dead had no speech for, when living,
They can tell you, being dead: the communication
Of the dead is tongued with fire beyond the language of the living.
Here, the intersection of the timeless moment
Is England and nowhere. Never and always.

And so it went, she always found me fertile ground for well reasoned analysis as I did her. In time she became my editor at NEO, and her gifts translated well into the fields I write about, which didn’t surprise me at all, although modest girl that she is, she may have been.

And so we went on, leaning on each other as we had problems, always, and helping each other as we could. She became muse, partner, supporter, and dearest friend, whom I love more than I ever have anyone.

That is very true, as events have proved. When she went to the hospital last September with cancer, my world essentially stopped. I spent most of September on my knees praying for her. When she was miraculously cured, at the very last moment and her move to the retreat center, while reasonable, and not unexpected, left me with a huge hole in my life. I spent a good part of last fall physically ill from some of the dissonances set up in my mind and soul, until for the third time since I’ve known Jess, the Lord reached down and lifted my burden to the point I can bear it, barely. And yet, even in this, Jess had left advice for us, in her absence:

In this life we lose those we love, and they lose us; even the happiest of marriages ends in a bereavement. Often, we are rejected by others, and we are dead to them, and they to us. But unless we die, this alone we know, we cannot rise to life in Jesus.

And for the regulars here that know us both, you know there will be Kipling:

As it will be in the future, it was at the birth of Man —
There are only four things certain since Social Progress began: —
That the Dog returns to his Vomit and the Sow returns to her Mire,
And the burnt Fool’s bandaged finger goes wabbling back to the Fire;

And that after this is accomplished, and the brave new world begins
When all men are paid for existing and no man must pay for his sins,
As surely as Water will wet us, as surely as Fire will burn,
The Gods of the Copybook Headings with terror and slaughter return!

Which I think is about the best description of real life you will ever find.

And yes, her absence still gnaws at my heart and soul, I expect it always shall, so the lesson from this part of my life was best expressed by John Donne.

No man is an Iland, intire of itselfe; every man
is a peece of the Continent, a part of the maine;
if a Clod bee washed away by the Sea, Europe
is the lesse, as well as if a Promontorie were, as
well as if a Manor of thy friends or of thine
owne were; any mans death diminishes me,
because I am involved in Mankinde;
And therefore never send to know for whom
the bell tolls; It tolls for thee.

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The intention today had been for a post following up Neo’s interesting reflections on Julian of Norwich and Christian mysticism, but that will be held over until tomorrow to deal with a topic which some already find irritating – Bosco. One commentator asked bluntly: ‘Why do you entertain this boob?’ and I suppose to postpone one post to write further on this invites, at the least, an answer to the question.

Our good friend Neo gave a part of the answer: ‘he is, in a sense a legacy of free expression taught to us by the Chatelaine, and we tolerate him for that reason as well’. Jessica’s reasons extended further than her commitment to free speech and her desire to spread the love of Christ to all. The type of witness Bosco gives is not at all uncommon, and in engaging in dialogue with him, Jess was not simply reaching out in Christian love to him, she was attempting to do the same to those who hold his views of personal revelation. Quite rightly, she was not willing to dismiss the idea of personal revelation – how could any Christian do that? – but she was also urging him, and I would, to submit that revelation, in humility, to the wisdom of the experience of many generations of Christians.

The first example we have of someone saying that their personal revelation was what mattered, and that revelation cutting across Apostolic testimony, comes very early in the history of the Church. St John’s first and second epistles deal with what we might want to call the first Christian schism. John, the ‘beloved disciple’, taught that Jesus was the pre-existing Word, He was God, and He was with God; but, in a manner we cannot fully comprehend, Jesus, whilst being God, was incarnate as man, and was both God and man. But, even within his own community, there were those who put their own personal revelation before the words of the Apostle, and declared that Jesus was not God come in the flesh (1 John 4:3; 2 John 1:7). A man called Diotrephes seems to have led this movement within the Johnannine community, and that community seems to have fractured around the argument. So, from the beginning, we see that not even the testimony of one who walked with Christ was sufficient to prevail against the pride of an individual who claimed a priority for his personal revelation. Bosco is, thus, simply the lineal descendant of Diotrephes.

Like Diotrephes, Bosco has had a revelation, and like him, is guided, in his own view, into all truth by it. Nowhere does Scripture support the line of argument that Jesus came into the world merely so that, at a later date, the Holy Spirit could visit each of us separately and tell us we are saved; nowhere in Scripture do we see a person saying this. Even St Paul, the one great example of personal revelation, does not march into Jerusalem and tell the Apostles that they are wrong on various things and that his revelation takes precedence. If Paul did not do it, why, one wonders, did Diotrephes and why does Bosco?

Well, there are many spirits in this world, and as John said, we would be wise to test them before crediting all they tell us. As tricks of the Evil One go, what could be better for his purpose than to appear to men and, appealing to their pride as to Adam’s, tell them that if they read God’s book: ‘ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil‘? It worked with Adam, it worked with Diotrephes, and it works with Bosco and those like him. It is our Christian duty to try to bring them back from the brink.

Because of their ignorance of history, men and women like Bosco do not know that the Church has always faced this problem. As early as Irenaeus in the second century, the way to read sacred Scripture was established: exegesis should pay careful attention to context (the Devil hates context, of course, and those influenced by him will tell us it isn’t important); unclear or obscure texts should be interpreted by clearer ones; a non-literal reading of some passages may be warranted (Jesus is not, for example, literally made of wood, and he does not have hinges, neither is he literally a vine). Irenaeus established the Rule of Faith – that is that the true meaning of the Scriptures is the interpretation of the Apostles as presented in the New Testament, and as widely accepted in the main doctrines and teachings of the Church founded by Jesus.

Whether Catholic (of whatever variety) or Orthodox, no Church with Apostolic succession teaches, or has taught, anything like Bosco teaches. The pride of men, the sin of Adam, leads his children to faith in themselves. Knowing this, the great Enemy will indeed visit his children and tell them that with God’s book committed to memory, and with his assurance they are saved, they know all that is needed. This is the latest great trick of Satan, and those of us concerned for the soul of our brother Bosco, and for the souls of others, can only point this out.

But, as our great friend Servus has pointed out in his comment yesterday, combatting that great Enemy has costs for those engaged in it, and the recent history of this place is evidence of that, so let us, brothers and sisters, hold this place in our prayers too, that from the wiles of the enemy we should be protected:

Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle, be our protection against the malice and snares of the devil. May God rebuke him we humbly pray; and do thou, O Prince of the Heavenly host, by the power of God, thrust into hell Satan and all evil spirits who wander through the world for the ruin of souls. Amen.

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For most folk nowadays, the simple parables of the Lord need explaining in two ways: not only what they mean, but actually what activities like scattering the seed and bringing in the sheaves might be; the agricultural metaphors which came so naturally to Jesus do so less easily in our urban society.

We have a meeting of elders tomorrow night to discuss our plans as a church; even churches have to have ‘mission statements’, by which is not meant what it would have meant when I was younger – we go out and preach the word. We have three main ‘headings’: ‘A Church for everyone; a living church; and a faithful church’. I’ve tried calming down and humming, I’ve tried going for a walk, I’ve tried emptying my mind and watching the birdies; but I still feel the urge to throw something out of the window – quite possibly the ‘consultant’ herself. But saying ‘what the blue blazes would you expect from a church is not this?’ is not, I am told, the sort of ‘constructive suggestions’ to be expected of the eldest elder; I daresay it is precisely what my fellow elders expect of me – they’ve enough experience.

So. we’re told we have to be ‘children-friendly’ because they are ‘the future’ and that our homilies should in some way be ‘accessible’ to the ‘kids’. I hate to tell them, but the kids from round here tend to grow up and move to Manchester and Leeds, so, whatever future they’ll be part of, it isn’t likely to be the one here. We must not, we are told, forget the elderly; you know, given the age of the congregation, that’s not likely. We must ‘welcome new people’. Quite how we’re going to get them is never revealed, but then since it nowhere mentions actual preaching the Gospel, that’s not a great surprise. We should, we are told be ‘a vibrant, thriving community of the faithful, living out our faith in the church and in our day-to-day lives’. Well I never. I thought that was what we were; perhaps I have been asleep? Perhaps I need more sleep – the presentation tomorrow seems an ideal opportunity.

Maybe the deep breaths are working though, because for all my irritation with the management-jargon, I ought to acknowledge the time and effort of the member who gave of both to compile this; she’s a well-paid job in Manchester where she does this for a good deal of money, and she’s done it for us because her family are members of the church. She’s also force even the curmudgeons amongst us to thing about what we can do to bring in fresh folk. We’ve lost half a dozen in the last year, and recruited about the same, so numbers are stable, but I’m not the only one who feels we could be doing more, so this will be an opportunity for us to, prayerfully, explore modern methods of ploughing and scattering the good seed on the land.

It is not, after all, as though there is not a lot of work to be done – though the labourers are fewer than we were, and some of us not as young as we once were. But if we put our efforts in, the Lord will give the harvest.

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What can we do here in the small corner to improve the situation and encourage evangelism in and through our faith communities?

That is the question I was putting the finishing touches to when I read his comment. It starts, as he knows better than most of us, as he does it, with a willingness to get out there – literally. The work we do on Saturday mornings is a visible witness to the Chapel and its work, but we are the only ones doing it; I have never seen an Anglican or a Roman Catholic out there. I have suggested, at our occasional ‘churches together’ meetings that we have a rota, but have never found anyone willing to come along and do the street evangelism. It requires nerve, it requires preparation, and it requires follow-up material to distribute; what would be even better is if there was a follow-up course on which people could go; as it is, we offer ad hoc preparation courses, but again, as it is us by ourselves, there’s a limit to what can be done. If we joined forces we could offer a regular class which people knew was there and which we could publicise.

That leads me to the second of my suggestions, which is a better utilisation of the medium through which this is coming to you. Jessica’s introduction to the ‘Pilgrim’ course was fascinating. I like the approach a great deal, and see no reason why it should be confined to Anglicans; there is nothing in the things I have read which I’d have trouble with teaching; but we’re not seeing much of a take up here, even with the Anglicans.

I have attended meetings at which the obstacles are always mentioned, but they always sound like excuses to me. We should have closer contacts with local colleges and Universities, especially those which have chaplains; I am sure that Jessica and her friends were not the only students who found their faith challenged when they got to university, and while she was lucky to find a helpful chaplain, how much better it would have been had he had back up from other Christians.

It is this ‘silo’ effect which gets in the way. We live in our ecclesial silos, perhaps cooperating during Christian unity week, perhaps not, but what about the other 51 weeks of the year? I had the pleasure of providing our local Catholic Church with a new member last week. Striking up conversation over coffee with a stranger in the supermarket, she mentioned she was a Catholic but as a newcomer, felt that she didn’t want to go to Stockport to the nearest Catholic Church. I pointed out there was one far closer, but she’d not come across it, as it is down a side-street and does nothing to advertise itself.

So, we should get getting out there physically, we should be using the internet to greater effect (here the Anglicans really have shown the way), and we should be advertising ourselves – and not worry too much about which ‘church’ gets the ‘customer’. But before we can do any of this, we have got to know our fellow Christians, we have got to know the priests, the ministers, the faithful, and we have to organise ourselves to work together. If we don’t, then we have only ourselves to blame if we end up playing ‘nearer my God to thee’ as the ship sinks below the waves.

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At the heart of our Faith is the empty tomb. St Paul was right to observe:And if Christ is not risen, then our preaching is empty and your faith is also empty. It is yet another sign of the authenticity of the accounts of the evangelists that they made no attempt to coordinate their accounts of this, the most central events. Elsewhere on this blog we have shown how the accounts do not contradict one another, but are, rather, what one might expect from four different perspectives, none of which was by an eye-witness; that the first witness was someone whose testimony would have been worthless, Mary Magdalene, is another of those signs of truth, and we see in Acts, St Paul’s first epistle to the Corinthians, and St John’s first epistle, the importance the evangelists attach to their status as men who had seen and heard the Risen Lord. St Paul emphasises again and again that he is handing on what he had been told; he is an eye witness to tradition.

Christ is Risen! He had said He would rise, but not one of those who went to the tomb that first Easter morning expected that prophecy to have come true; they all seek for other, worldly explanations. Even the devoted Magdalene thought ‘they’ had taken the body. The explanation had been given to them all in advance; none had believed. Jesus said that those who had seen and believed were blessed, but even more blessed were those who had not seen but still believed. On this Easter Sunday, as on every Easter Sunday, we are joined in our churches by those who do not often come, but who are called there by some old memory or some prompting of conscience or curiosity. We are joined also by those catechumens who have undertaken the long pilgrimage to the Easter consummation. We are called, also, to renew our baptismal vows and to renew our own encounter with the Risen Lord. Perhaps we are also reminded of what a minority we are in the secular culture which surrounds us?

Some will say it is all to the good, and that now only those who really believe come to the Church, that means we have a purer, if smaller, church. But that is not how the Apostles saw it, neither is it how the Church has acted in its long journey through time. It does not exist to be a small club for the pure, it is, in Pope Francis’ striking phrase, a ‘field hospital for the wounded’. We are not called by the Easter Resurrection to withdraw into the safety of our version of the upper room, but rather, as the recipients of the Great Commission, to go out there to testify to the hope that is in us.

Neither are we told there is but one way that this commission might be carried out: neither those of us who treasure the richness of the solemn liturgical tradition of which we are heirs; nor those who see vitality only in noise and enthusiasm; nor those who lament what was and fear what might be; nor yet those who fondly imagine that all is for the best in this the best of all possible worlds, have a monopoly on these things. The empty tomb poses a challenge to us all.

He could not be confined to the tomb, and He is with us to the end of time; what witness to we offer, not just at this time, to that great hope? How can we help both those who are newly entered into the Faith, and those who have come today on a rare visit? How can they help us? Are we an exclusive club for those who are pure, or are we a place where the brokenness and messiness of this fallen world can find some healing – and if so, at what price to us? We can, none of us in whatever Church, leave it all to the priests and those who have been ordained. Can we rise to the words of St Peter:

But you are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, His own special people, that you may proclaim the praises of Him who called you out of darkness into His marvellous light;

On this day of days, when the darkness of sin was banished and the light of God triumphed over it, may we be renewed in Him, and He in us, and may we bear witness to the hope we have been given. We are saved through His blood. We have followed Him through the path to Calvary, and we have stood with Him watching from afar at Golgotha, now may we rise with Him. He is Risen – He is Risen Indeed!

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Satan put it into Judas’ heart to betray Jesus. There has been much speculation as to why Judas did it, and even those who have seen him as a necessary part of the story of the Crucifixion and Resurrection; he was, but that does not excuse him, and neither does the fact that Satan put it into his heart. Satan sifts us all constantly. Every day is a trial with him, and every day brings fresh opportunities to imitate Judas in our own way.

As we contemplate the annals of human ingratitude, myopia and pride, Judas takes a special place. Despite being with Jesus for the length of His earthly ministry, Judas appears to have learnt nothing, not only about who he was, but also about what Jesus was teaching. If, as is sometimes implied, it was the use of the expensive ointment which tipped the balance, then we see a not uncommon type in Judas. He knew best. His instinct went towards asceticism, and he had no time for fripperies; he would have been at the forefront of those who demand that the Church sells all the fine artwork which generations of devout souls have given it, in order to feed the poor. Their’s is a world in which man lives by bread alone, and where, once everything which might life the soul up has vanished, life is grim and the poor continue to suffer once all the fine art has gone. Men like this sound as though they mean well, but their actions seldom help those at whom they are aimed, and often do long term harm.

Jessica likes to think that Judas was trying to provoke a revolution, hoping that by arresting Jesus, the authorities would unwittingly light the fuse to a powder keg; if so, it was a pretty spectacular miscalculation.

Thirty pieces of silver was the price paid to Zechariah for his work in watching over a flock of sheep destined for the slaughter. This was the price of a slave according to Exodus. Zechariah took them and threw them to the ‘potter of the Lord’, just as the money Judas took was used to buy the Potter’s field; we have, in other words, a Messianic prophecy in Zechariah 11. Just as Zechariah withdrew his staffs of Favour and Unity from his flock, so too did the Lord from His.

The Son of Man was sold to His enemies for the price of a slave. Judas acted on his own wisdom, saw it had been folly, and then hanged himself. If he had wanted action, what he got did not satisfy him. He had acted by the standards of this world, and Satan had, as he will, found a way in through the chinks in the spiritual armour which are thus created.

Judas set in train the events which, by worldly standards, led to the humiliation of Jesus and his elimination as a threat to the Jewish authorities. By the ninth hour on the Friday afternoon it was, indeed, all over, as the world judges these things. But the world was, as it is on these matters, wrong, and yet it was about to be redeemed – although many of its inhabitants would be as blind as Judas, and continue to be so to this day.

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Yesterday’s discussion was an interesting one. For many years I have maintained what my forefathers, and indeed the forefathers of most Christians have maintained across a range of moral issue: no contraception; abortion only on those rare occasions when a mother’s life really is at risk; the indissolubility of marriage; no pre-marital sex – and so on. The fact is that whilst I have said (and acted upon) these things, the world has steadily moved in the other direction. I can (and as Mrs S will confirm, have done so) rail against the decline in morals and declare that the world is going to the dogs, but is there some point at which some kind of reality check would be a useful thing?

The parallel here is with that huge list of rule that those churches with canon law have. I am unsure what, other than the ability to say that with these rule I am not like other sinners without them, purpose is served by having lists of rules by which no one abides. I say this reluctantly, because obviously one purpose is to establish what is and is not good Christian behaviour; but if the preaching and rules are failing, does the failure lie with the world (as I tend to maintain) or with us?

Where is that change of heart which we say our Faith produces? If so many of our own people find it difficult to hold to the moral rules which we teach, then easy and tempting as it is to blame the world, do we have no part in this? It has always been easier to take the worldly view, and Christians have always warned against this. But is it, perhaps the case that without the sanction of the secular law, even our own people will not abide by Christian teaching? That seems to be the lesson. But then, if we look at the history of the people of Israel, it was always thus – the prophets were constantly lamenting their shortcomings, and predicting doom. So perhaps it was always thus?

If we cannot give the example ourselves in the way we live (as opposed to the words we say) of why the Christian way is better than that of the world, then our preaching will be in vain; we must live Christianity, not just preach it.

Not even in my most contrarian mood can I manage to reach the position of arguing we should abandon the right because people will not follow it – because it was always thus; the majority have always found it hard to follow the narrower path and easy to take the wide primrose one which leads the destruction. There are times I wonder whether that is the reality of the narrow gate – that unless one has that change of heart which allows one to take courage and live the Christian life, then salvation is lost?

We cannot, I think, frighten people into belief and good behaviour. We can only persuade them by our example. To be fair to the world, it is doing its part to show how ghastly its alternative morality is, and what its results are. So if we stand firm and live as we ought, then we set an example which others, despairing of the world, may well come to see is preferable.

I am obviously going to have to be very careful. We have written before here about the police arresting street preachers and the way the UK police seem to believe that quoting the Bible in the street is an arrestable offence. Well, in the land of John Knox, it has happened again. Tony Miano, a former policeman turned evangelist has once more been arrested and may be charged. As he was preaching about sin, he, and those with him were yelled at by a woman who then approached the police to complain she was annoyed – so the boys in blue arrested him. Garry Selfridge, a spokesman for Christian Concern said that the court (in Dundee) “is being a little pathetic and backward” in allowing the proceedings to move forward.

Perhaps, as was the case with Dr Clifford (who was not, as Neo reminds me actually preaching, and whose case here covered here) and with Mr Miano the last time he had his collar felt, the law will decide not to take further action, but what climate is being stoked up here? This seems to me to amount to intimidation. If one person complaining about my preaching is enough to have the police arrest me, then the freedom for which my father fought in the last war is gone. Remember, we are not, here, talking about someone standing up and urging folk to commit acts of violence against sodomites, but a preacher telling us we are sinners and quoting the Bible. Can we look forward to the police trying to arrest the Lord when He comes again in Glory?

In this case, as in that of Dr Clifford, there was no public disorder, but, according to the police, they feared there might be. This places an extraordinary amount of discretion to the police. If a bobby on the beat thinks there might be a disorder he can just arrest you can he? That amounts to arbitrary arrest. I suppose that if someone manages to sue the police for a large enough sum, it might put an end to this practice, as it appears that, in our society, common sense is not enough – nothing short of a large fine will do to deter folk in authority behaving like mini-dictators.

For me this is a very live issue. For most of the last thirty-five years I have preached, or been part of a preaching team locally, and on Saturdays we tour the area, preaching in the open air and calling for repentance and handing our tracts to folk, asking whether they’s like to come to Jesus. We’ve already had to apply for permits to do this, and we can no longer, as we used, just turn up and preach. We’ve good relations with a number of shopping centres, and we always clear things with the managers of near-by shops. But I can see that if this goes on, some of those in authority will be looking again and wondering if this is too big a risk for them to take. All it would take was for one protestor to write to the managing director of a supermarket chain, and no doubt we’d be asked to move on – ‘just in case’.

Now I know, when I’ve written on this before, some folk think I’m making too much of a fuss, but then they are not the ones at risk of arrest. There’s no point pretending that thick wedges don’t have thin ends, and that slippery slopes don’t exist. There is, in this country, a growing intolerance. Our mission team discussed all this last night, and we have agreed that we will carry on, although I am sad to report that at least one of our number says he thinks it better if we do it without him. I understand, he’s a teacher, and if he gets arrested, his career could be at risk Another reason I am glad to be retired. If they arrest me, if will save on our heating and food bill.

"I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend." J.R.R. Tolkien <br>“I come not from Heaven, but from Essex.” William Morris